What fancy, or what flight of wingéd thought, O lady of my heart, hast thou to chime Accordant with the flow of my poor rhyme? Have my strange songs a dearer solace brought Than those remembered lays thy childhood caught, And treasured safely through disloyal time— Lays of a sweeter tongue and fairer clime; Pure as thy dreams, before our passion sought And won the shadowy realm, and steeped thy sleep In fiery visions and terrific throes Of self-consuming love? My songs are foes To peace and thee; yet thou dost bid me sweep The torturing strings, although thy eyelids weep: Find'st thou a pleasure in thy very woes? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HEMLOCK by EMILY DICKINSON NEED OF LOVING by STRICKLAND GILLILAN HERO AND LEANDER by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE JOLLY NOSE by WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH STANZAS: IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 4 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE HOLY STAR by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |